


Her Dark Place is Also Quiet

by ever_neutral



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fancies he could probably watch her like that for hours, engrave her features in his memory. </p><p>[S7 setting]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Dark Place is Also Quiet

It rains on Friday for the first time in too long. And not a moment too late – Spike fancies the slayer army’s pungent cocktail of sweat, blood and anxiety was starting to spread to the very ozone layer. ( _Fear isn’t so appetizing to him these days._ )

It’s a cue for Buffy to call it a day off, to the relief of every resident without exception. Well, aside from Andrew. Who arguably did not count so much.

The bags under Buffy’s eyes are the same shade as the cumulonimbus clouds gathering in the graying sky; but heavier, to Spike’s eyes. Yet, trodding down the basement steps, she somehow has the energy to conjure up a smile for him. (For _him_.)

To his surprise -- and slight terror – she seats herself next to him on the cot (which creaks only slightly from the added weight of her which of course, these days, is only slight), and then promptly proceeds to fall against the sheets with a sigh.

Spike peers down at her face, set in an expression of complete tranquility -- eyes closed, hint of a smile ghosting the edges of her mouth – that’s utterly unfamiliar to him. He used to watch her sleep sometimes, back in _those days (-- when no part of her was unfamiliar)_ \-- but the anxiety always seemed to follow her into her unconscious. Only to be expected – she would come to him back then seeking simplicity, which wasn’t the same thing as peace.

He’s pondering this when Buffy suddenly opens her eyes, and gazes up at him.

“Sorry. You don’t mind, do you?”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Your house, pet. Can sleep anywhere you want.”

“Thanks. I mean, I’m not really planning on _sleeping_ , just wanted to rest my eyes for… a little…”

The return of the blissed-out expression informs Spike that she’s successfully trailed off into dreamland. He smirks. He fancies he could probably watch her like that for hours, engrave her features in his memory.

But instead he silently raises himself off the cot, makes his way across the basement and up the stairs. Closes the door behind him.

Not to his surprise, Andrew is hanging round on the other side of it, wearing the sort of expression that makes Spike aware of the advantage of not being conscious right that moment.

“What’s up with Buffy?” Andrew asks, disarmingly curious.

“She’s not to be disturbed,” Spike replies.

“Oh.” A pause. “D’you think she’d like some hot cocoa?”

“What?”

“In my experience, hot beverages are powerful treatments for stress, especially when consumed while watching _Red Dwarf_. But not the episode where Rimmer pretends to be Lister’s old flame, because that’s just horrifying.”

Spike stares at him. “Yeah. Okay.”

Andrew claps his hands together. “Greeeat. Now do you know if she’s a cinnamon or honey person?”

Spike considers. “Do we have any of those little marshmallows?”


End file.
